FIRST CASEWORST CASE?
by PoeticallyIncorrect1
Summary: A little look at Curtis' first day at the 27. Please read & review. Reposted for easier reading.


**FRST CASE/WORST CASE?**

Monday, April 25 

    It had been a LONG two weeks for Detective Lennie Briscoe.  First, his partner Mike Logan had been placed on suspension following him striking a city councilman.  The suspension had ended with Logan's transfer to Staten Island.  Now, Briscoe was waiting to meet his _new partner.  He hoped that the department had seen fit to transfer in an experienced Homicide cop.  But he doubted that he'd gotten to be __that lucky._

    He was sitting at his desk doing paperwork—a job he always hated, and keeping an eye on the new arrivals in the squad room.  So far nobody that looked like a cop had shown up.

     "Excuse me," a slightly accented voice spoke.  Briscoe looked up at the tall Hispanic kid standing by his desk.  "Where can I find Lt. Van Buren?"

    "That's her office over there," Briscoe said, gesturing toward a closed door.

    "Thanks," the kid said.  He placed a cardboard box on the desk adjoining Briscoe's.  

     Van Buren must have been watching because at that exact moment, she stepped out of her office.  Walking over to the two men, she said, "Come with me, Detective Curtis."

    Briscoe watched them walk away and sighed.  "That's my _new partner.  What'd they do—stick me with a rookie?  I'm getting __too old to baby sit," he grumbled, returning to the paperwork._

    A few minutes later, the office door opened and Van Buren stepped out.  "Lennie, could you come here for a few minutes?"

    "Coming," he replied, reluctantly getting to his feet.

    Inside the office, the kid was sitting on the bench under the window but he stood up right away when  Briscoe entered.  Van Buren sat down at her desk and said, "I want you to meet Detective Reynaldo Curtis.  Detective Curtis, this is Detective Lennie Briscoe."

    "Hello.  You can call me 'Rey'" Curtis said and reached out to shake Briscoe's hand.

    "Okay," Briscoe said and studied the younger man.  

    "Now, that you know each other," Van Buren said, looking at Briscoe.  "Show Detective Curtis around the squad room."

    "Sure."  Briscoe led the way out of the office.  "That's your desk over there."

    "I thought it was," Curtis said.  He glanced at Briscoe and then began removing personal objects from the box.

    Briscoe looked at him a minute.  "So, how long have you been a detective?"

    "Not long.  Got my shield and transferred out of the O.C.C.B."

    "Oh, yeah?  _That certainly prepared you to be a Homicide cop," Briscoe commented sarcastically.  He sat down at his desk and turned his attention back to the paperwork._

    "So, what happened to your previous partner?" Curtis asked, making conversation.

    "He got transferred," Briscoe said shortly, without looking up.

    "I see."  End of conversation.  Curtis placed a laptop computer on the desk and sat down.

    "When we get a call, I'll let you know.  Otherwise, just sit tight."

    A little while later, Van Buren looked out of her office to see Briscoe basically ignoring Curtis.  She sighed and shook her head but decided not to interfere.  They'd _have to work together soon enough._

    Briscoe finished his paperwork, got himself a mug of coffee and was now reading the newspaper.  Still ignoring Curtis.  When the phone rang, he reached out to grab it.  "Briscoe."  He listened a moment, writing down the address and other pertinent information.  "Got it."

    Curtis looked up from his computer to ask, "We got a call?"

    "Yeah.  _We got a call."  He stood up and pulled on his suit jacket.  "Come on."_

    Curtis shut the computer and stood up.  "Any details?"

    "Just basically the address," Briscoe said, leading the way to the car.   "And _I'm driving.  We don't have to break any speed limits getting there.  The vic isn't going any place."_

    Curtis buckled his seat belt and nodded.  "What do you want me to do?"

    "I'll tell you when we get there.  Remember, NO touching anything without wearing those latex gloves.  Some of us gets really pissed off having to eliminate fingerprints caused by careless cops."

    "I _know that!  I'm __not a rookie!" Curtis snapped.  He took a deep breath.  "I'll just take notes and watch you.  Okay?"_

    "You do that," Briscoe stated, intent on his driving.  'Who DID I piss off to get stuck with this kid?' he wondered, probably not for the last time.

    The odor of decay was evident the moment they arrived at the crime scene.  "Smells like a 'ripe' one," Briscoe commented as he reached for his handkerchief.  Clasping it over his nose and mouth, he headed toward the CSU techs and uniform cops.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Curtis determinedly following him, his own handkerchief out.

    The body was that of a young woman and was lying against a tumbled down stone wall.  Besides the odor decay and evident decomposition, insects and their larva were crawling all over it.  One of the uniform cops said, "A couple of kids found her.  ID in the purse says Helena Martas.  Picture doesn't look the same though."

    "We still need to make a positive ID," Briscoe commented.  He crouched down to take a look at the body.  "Where are the kids now?"

    "Ran home to tell their parents.  Can't say I blame them.  This stink is bad enough to knock out a charging elephant."

    Curtis got close enough to see the body.  He took one look and staggered back, his face pale and fighting sudden nausea.  Making no attempt to take notes, he moved as far away as he possibly could.

    "Okay, get the body down to the morgue and check with missing persons to see if anybody filed a report," Briscoe ordered.

    "Want to go door-to-door?" one of the cops asked.

    "Let's get time-of-death first."  He glanced at Curtis, noticing the greenish tinge to his face.  "I'd better get the kid out of here before he loses his breakfast."

    "That your new partner?"

    "Looks like it."  He picked up the address book out of the purse and headed over to Curtis.  "Let's go."

    Curtis nodded, grateful to be leaving the crime scene.  He got in the car and sat with his head bowed.

    "Hey!" Briscoe said sharply and Curtis turned to look at him.  "_You puke in the car—__you clean it up.  If you're gonna be sick—let me know so I can stop in time."_

    As soon as they returned to the 27, Briscoe quickly showed Curtis the men's room and said, "Two things you need to remember.  One, if you make a mess, you clean it up.  Two, shiny new shoes are never the same after they've been puked on."  He moved over to the sinks to give Curtis a little privacy while he threw up.

    A few minutes later Curtis emerged from the stall looking pale and shaky.  He took the damp paper towel Briscoe handed him and wiped off his face.  "Thanks.  Sorry about this."

    "Hell, it's probably happened to all of us.  At least YOU didn't lose it all over _your partner," Briscoe said dismissively._

    "That happen to you?" Curtis asked, a slight smile flitting across his face."

    "Yeah.  He was _really pissed off.  That's when I learned about 'shiny new shoes'."_

    "Think they can get a positive ID on the body?" Curtis asked after a moment?'

    "Probably with dental records.  Or a photo if somebody picks all the insects off her face," Briscoe replied.  He regretted the last statement as soon as he said it because Curtis looked like he was about to lose it again.  He quickly steered the younger man into the nearest empty stall.  "I'll just tell the Lieutenant that you're gonna hang out here for awhile."

    Back in the squad room, Van Buren approached Briscoe and asked, "Where's Curtis?"

    "Upstairs."

    "He okay?"

    "Yeah.  If you count losing your breakfast.  Look, if he's not down here in thirty minutes, I'll go up and check on him.  I was a pretty bad crime scene:  Decomposing body, insect activity and that stink that gets in your clothes…"

    She held up her hand.  "Enough, Lennie.  I get the picture.  Did you know it was a bad scene out there?"

    "No."  He shrugged.  "Even if I did, was I supposed to tell the kid to stay in the car, it's pretty bad."

    "No, he's gotta learn sometime."

    Curtis was still looking pale when he returned to the squad room.  Seeing Van Buren beckoning him toward her office, he walked over.  "He _had to tell you?"_

    "I asked.  Lennie said that it was a pretty bad scene," she replied, indicating a seat.

    Curtis sat down on the bench and rubbed his forehead.  "Yeah, it _was pretty bad.  I guess I just wasn't prepared for it."_

    "Relax.  It's your first day.  Nobody expects you to be perfect—yet.  You'll learn to focus on the case at hand and not on your gut reaction."  Seeing Curtis's expression, she said, "Forget I said that.  Lennie's trying to track down the vic's next-of-kin.  See if he needs a hand."

    "Is that all?" Curtis asked and started to get up.

    "Yes.  Get back to work." Van Buren dismissed him.

    Curtis returned to his desk and looked over at Briscoe.  "Need any help?"

    "Yeah.  I can _always use help making phone calls," Briscoe replied.  He handed Curtis a can of ginger-ale and a package of gum.  "Thought you might be able to use these."_

    "Thanks.  I think."

    "The ginger-ale will help your stomach and you'll want the gum before you go home and kiss your wife.  Trust me on that one."  He handed Curtis a list of name and numbers.

    "I didn't tell you I'm married," Curtis said and took a sip.

    "Can't help not noticing your ring," Briscoe replied.  He looked at Curtis.  "Just ask if they know Helena Martas and what the relationship is .  Then let me know and I'LL give them the details.  Start dialing."

    Curtis went to work making phone calls.  "Hello, is this Renee Vanderhoof?"

    "Yes it is," a young woman replied.

    "Do you know Helena Martas?"

    "Why yes, she's my sister."

    "Just a minute," Curtis said.  He looked over at Briscoe.  "I've got a sister—Renee Vanderhoof."

    "Good," Briscoe told him.  He took the phone from Curtis.  "Ms. Vanderhoof, have you spoken to your sister in the past couple of days?"

    "No.  Has something happened to Helena?"

    "I'm Detective Briscoe at the 27th Precinct.  We found a body with the ID of Helena Martas in a purse."

    "Do I need to take a look at the body?"

    "I'd advise against it.  She's been exposed—to the elements.  Did your sister have a dentist so we can get the dental records?"

    "Yes.  Dr. Keith Meire.  Helena saw him just last month."

    "Can you give me the address so we can have him send the dental records to the morgue?  If the ID is positive, we'll let you know as soon as possible."  He listened a moment and wrote down the address and phone number.  "Thank you."

    "What now?  More phone calls?" Curtis asked.

    "We go check with the dentist," Briscoe replied.  He got to his feet.  "We get the ID, determine cause and time-of-death.  Then we REALLY get down to investigating."

    "I see." Curtis pulled on his jacket and followed Briscoe to the car.

    It didn't take long to talk to the dentist and get the required dental records sent to the Medical Examiner's office.  "We should have a positive ID by morning," Briscoe commented as they headed back to the 27.  "I'm gonna tell the Lieutenant I'm getting lunch.  Want to join me?"

    "No.  Food is the _last thing I want right now," Curtis said, quickly shaking his head._

    "I figured.  I just thought I'd ask," Briscoe said and laughed.  "Believe me, you'll get used to it.  Not all crime scenes are gonna be as bad as this one."

    "That's good to hear.  I think," Curtis said, wary of what Briscoe's next comment was going to be.

    ""They'll be worse."

    "Okay.  I've been warned."

    It was just about 5:00 when the phone rang again.  Briscoe was quick to answer it.  After listening a few minutes, he looked at Curtis.  "ME's report.  The vic died of a sudden cerebreal hemorrage.  No signs of foul play."

    "What does that mean?"

    "That's it.  Case closed.  We turn her over to missing persons and let them tell the sister," Briscoe explained.  "Might as well call it a day."

    "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

    "Yeah.  But if I get paged—I page you.  I do have your pager number?'

    "I'd better give you both it and my cell phone number," Curtis replied.  He scribbled down the numbers and handed the paper to Briscoe.

    "Okay.  I'll tell the Lieutenant you're heading out."  He headed for Van Buren's office.

    "How's the case going?" she asked.

    "We closed it already.  Vic died of natural causes.  I told the kid that he could head out..  Me, I'm gonna finish up the paperwork so we can tie it up nice and neat."

    "Try and get along with Curtis, he's eager to learn."

    "Yeah.  Like a puppy dog.  We'll, I'm too old to baby sit and I never did care for dogs much either."

    "Lennie, I'm not the bad guy.  _I did not get rid of Logan and I didn't personally request Curtis," Van Buren stated._

    "I know.  I guess I miss Mike and I'm kinda taking it out on the kid," Briscoe admitted.

    "Try and have a better attitude in the morning, Lennie."

    "Yeah.  Maybe we can get a case we can actually work," Briscoe said and headed back to his desk.


End file.
